


Under(cover)

by cupofgenmaicha



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: (referenced non-con), M/M, Mafia leader! Kihyun, Open Ending, Power Play, Prison AU, Referenced murder, Sexual Tension, Undercover Agent! Hyunwoo, Violence, Weapons, more details in notes!!!, references to drug trafficking, references to forced blow jobs, tilted power dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 17:32:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16769689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupofgenmaicha/pseuds/cupofgenmaicha
Summary: When Officer Lee Minhyuk is found dead, Hyunwoo goes undercover to investigate his murder and infiltrate one of Seoul's most powerful mafia empires.





	Under(cover)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to be honest: this was supposed to be a drabble about powerful, pink-haired, mafia leader Kihyun and it turned into this!
> 
> To reiterate the tags and provide more info:
> 
> This is a prison/mafia/undercover agent AU and it is relatively dark and twisted!! Please proceed with caution! I feel like it contains pretty normal themes for this kind of au, including: tilted power dynamics, power play, sexual tension, references to forced blow jobs, references to drug trafficking, violence, weapons, references to murder, cigarettes, and swearing.
> 
> IF ANY OF THE ABOVE DISTURBS YOU, PLEASE DO NOT READ!
> 
> All of these themes, including the referenced forced bj's, are treated casually by the characters in the story because they are canon-typical.
> 
> Also !!! there are references to sub/top! Hyunwoo and dom/bottom! Kihyun, and a small reference to humiliation kink!
> 
> ***Please do not repost my fics! Thank you!***

Officer Lee Minhyuk is dead.

Even as Hyunwoo walks through the concrete halls, past thick metal bars, escorted on either side by heavily armed guards, his mind still hasn’t fully processed that his friend is gone.

It wasn’t an accident—something honorable that calls for a great service with music and prayer, weeping family members sharing stories in his memory. 

No. It was dirty. Underhanded. 

A warning.

But Hyunwoo has never been good at listening to others.

The group stops in front of a locked gate. Above it is a metal placard and emblazoned on it:

**Block A, Cell 514**

“Prisoner number 1122618,” the guard reads the paperwork aloud, voice gruff as his eyes flick from Hyunwoo’s newly assigned brown jumper back to the papers. “This is your home for the next several months.”

Hyunwoo dips his head, avoiding eye contact and walks through the narrow opening, listening as the guard closes the metal bars again behind him with a jarring _clang_ , locking him in.

The room is small, claustrophobic, and dark; he’s been in there less than a minute and every nerve in his body is screaming at him to turn around and leave. Escape back to the station and the quiet desk job he had been offered after his last successful undercover operation.

The noise echoing through the prison’s halls is deafening with the sounds of fellow prisoners fighting, laughing, and sometimes howling, but inside the room it is relatively quiet, with the other men glancing up with only mild curiosity before returning to their activities.

His eyes scan the room, landing fully on each prisoner before finishing the sweep. There are six men total, including himself. Each man has a small shelf for personal belongings, not that there are many of those, and there is a tiny metal toilet in the corner, hidden behind a partial wall, giving the illusion of privacy.

Hyunwoo knows better, feels the eyes all around him. He knows the prison system inside and out; there is no such thing as privacy.

He was placed in this cell for a reason. No one in the prison can know who he is or why he’s there—that would mean certain death or at least a blown mission—and Police Intelligence Officer Lee Jooheon has made certain that Hyunwoo was entered into the database as a legitimate inmate under a false name.

Hyunwoo spots the man in charge immediately—a man he’s only seen in photographs and on grainy videos, the only remnants from Minhyuk’s time undercover.

The man is reclining almost regally on a mountain of futons pushed up against one wall, fanned by two of the—Hyunwoo guesses—lowest ranking men in the room. The man watches him with dark eyes for a moment then yawns and brushes a wavy lock of pink hair off his forehead.

Two more men stand guard, eyes fixed on Hyunwoo. He recognizes them as bodyguards—integral to the Yoo organization.

“What’s your name?” one of the bodyguards demands in clipped syllables. He’s shorter than the other one and well-built; the prison uniform actually looks like it was made for him.

“Inmate 1122618,” Hyunwoo replies with a small ironic smile.

He hears a poorly muted snort coming from the taller bodyguard, followed by silence.

The man in charge rises up and perches on the edge of the futon. Intense eyes stare at him from under eyebrows arched in amusement or perhaps bemusement. Although his features could be described as delicate or even pretty, there is a fierceness about him that commands attention. Respect. Even fear.

“Kneel,” the man commands, his voice soft, almost lyrical.

Hyunwoo stands still and he knows it’s a risk to disobey, but he also knows that kneeling before a stranger in prison is a show of weakness—and Hyunwoo despises weakness.

The man’s eyebrow raises infinitesimally. “You don’t seem to understand how things work around here. This is my cell—well, more like my block—and you either do as I say or—” he shrugs, “—you disappear.”

Hyunwoo knows. That is precisely why he’s here.

“Since you’re new, and perhaps quite stupid, I’ll say it again,” he chides. “Kneel.”

Before arriving at prison, Hyunwoo was briefed for several weeks—something the police department only needs to do when a mission is particularly dangerous. One small fuck up and he could disappear and wash up in the Han River with half his body already rotted away. Like Minhyuk. Hyunwoo swallows the bile in his throat at the memory. It follows him through the day and visits him in his sweat-soaked dreams, haunting him.

The police chief’s voice rings clearly in his head: Push. Test boundaries, but not too far. Figure out every angle of the men in this cell. Who are they? Don’t go into the mission with preconceived ideas.

He knows when to continue testing and when to yield. So, when the two bodyguards charge toward him after he shows the slightest hesitation, he decides to kneel on his own.

The man looms over him, pink hair falling into his eyes, and runs a finger along Hyunwoo’s jaw. “So, inmate 1122618, what’s your name?”

There’s something dangerous about the quality to his voice now.

“Shownu,” he spits out the name that still tastes foreign on his tongue and he stares back, unflinching.

The man hums, nodding his head, eyes razor sharp. “I’m Yoo Kihyun.”

_I know_ , he thinks, but he keeps his expression blank, only nodding slightly as a show of acknowledgment.

“What are you in for?”

“Drugs.” The lie rolls easily off the tongue.

“Loyalty?”

Hyunwoo shakes his head. “Solo.”

“Ah, what a pity,” Kihyun tuts as he runs a finger over Hyunwoo’s lower lip; he’s surprised to feel a shiver run up his spine. “As you can see,” he explains as he lifts up his jumper sleeve slightly to show the tattoo inked on his wrist, one Hyunwoo recognizes immediately as the Yoo family emblem, “I already have quite a network. You’re pretty, but of no real use to me in here.”

“Unless,” he continues with a long, delicate finger tapping his chin, eyes narrowed in thought, “you were to perform other services.”

Hyunwoo follows Kihyun’s gaze as it travels down his slim body until it hits his crotch, a mere few inches away from Hyunwoo’s mouth.

Hyunwoo raises an eyebrow. “I will never suck your dick,” he grits out, voice low and gravelly.

He sees movement out of the corner of his eye—the two bodyguards moving toward him, but Kihyun stops them with the flick of his wrist. He almost smiles—his lips barely curling into a smirk and Hyunwoo recognizes the excited glint in his eyes: a challenge. 

Kihyun leans in until his lips brush hot against Hyunwoo’s ear and murmurs, “How presumptuous.”

His lips are gone in an instant as he lies back down on the futon, but Hyunwoo is stuck in place. He doesn’t move until one of the bodyguards nudges him. 

“You’re dismissed.”

/

Over the next few weeks, Hyunwoo learns that there is a ranking system and he has been cast as the lowest, even lower than the two random cellmates who were unlucky enough to be placed in the same cell as Kihyun and his two bodyguards. The older man Intak performs simple cleaning tasks, but mostly sits by himself staring at an old faded picture of his daughter. The younger man Jaesun is nervous, twitchy, his beady eyes seem to constantly jump around the room.

Starting out at the lowest position is the natural order as the newcomer, but his stomach doesn’t know that as it gnaws away at his insides.

His share of the rice and watered down seaweed soup has been confiscated and divided among the rest of the prisoners almost every meal since his first day there. He could probably fight every guy in the cell and win, but he knows that every time they take away his futon at night, forcing him to sleep on the concrete or eat his allotted meal in front of him, they’re testing whether he’ll crack. Testing his loyalties.

He refuses to cave. He waits patiently, listening for crumbs of information and looking for another way in.

“It’s been over a month and you haven’t made any headway?” Jooheon runs frustrated fingers through his unruly black hair and sighs through his teeth. “You’re our best officer, hyung. What the hell is going on?”

Hyunwoo’s eyes study every corner of the cramped room looking for bugs recording their conversation, as prisons are known to do.

Jooheon dispels his fear. “This is a private room,” he assures. “I checked it over myself.”

Hyunwoo keeps his voice low and even. “Kihyun is smart. Much smarter than the others we’ve dealt with during past undercover ops. I can’t force it or he’ll kill me, Jooheon.” He holds the other officer’s gaze across the small metal table and continues quietly, “You know that.”

Jooheon blanches and Hyunwoo knows that he’s thinking about Minhyuk again, not that he’s been able to escape it. Dark smudges are permanent bruises under Jooheon’s haunted eyes.

“I should be the one in here,” Jooheon whispers, watery bloodshot eyes staring at the table, unfocused. “I should make that bastard pay for Min’s death!” He’s shaking again, his fingers vibrating against the table.

Hyunwoo places his hand over Jooheon’s and shakes his head. “No. I need you on the outside. I’ll get him for you.”

The entire police force is certain that Minhyuk had been exposed as an undercover agent and murdered by Kihyun, but Hyunwoo has his doubts.

_I think there’s another Yoo member, hyung._

_How do you know, Min?_

_I don’t know. I don’t know._

“Has there been much activity with the Yoos lately?”

“Besides the usual?” Jooheon thinks for a moment. “No. With Kihyun locked away it’s been pretty quiet.”

Hyunwoo nods. The brief silence is interrupted by a sharp knock on the door, a one-minute warning that their time is almost up.

Hyunwoo stands and Jooheon looks up at him with fear and a little hope swirling in his eyes. “Are you sure you can do it? It will be a while before I can contact you again.”

_Officer Lee Minhyuk is dead—and no one knows why._

Hyunwoo nods, determined. “We’ll get him this time—whoever he is, and tear down the entire empire along with him.”

/

Hyunwoo wanted to be a police officer since he was a little boy. He never truly understood how difficult it would be to go undercover—to try to hold onto himself while living as someone else, someone false. It’s a delicate balance and one that he feels he’s managed well, at least up to this point.

But there is something about Kihyun that throws him off his carefully crafted game.

Kihyun commands most of his attention; even when he should be studying the other men to gather as much intel as possible, his eyes always return to Kihyun. 

“Are you trying to steal from me?” Kihyun asks as he steps on Jaesun’s hand, digging the heel of his prison-assigned boot into the delicate bone. “Pitiful.”

Hyunwoo hears a crack and everyone in the room is suddenly occupied as the man yowls in pain, but Hyunwoo can’t look away; he watches intently as Kihyun plucks the pilfered chocolate from the prisoner’s hand and pats him on the head condescendingly. 

“This is a warning.” Kihyun leaves him curled on the floor and begins to walk back over to his makeshift throne, but stops when he notices that Hyunwoo is still watching him.

“Enjoying the show?”

Kihyun is an interesting mixture of cruel and fair; he punishes swiftly without remorse while protecting everyone in his block, down to the lowest, poorest prisoner. Men revere him as much as they fear him.

His every mannerism is meticulous—not a hair out of place, not a grain of rice uneaten. His movements are confident and fluid; his voice is quiet but firm. Never second-guessing. Never looking back.

The makings of a great leader. A Mafia king.

“I could have you killed, you know?” Kihyun muses as he slides onto the metal bleachers in the yard outside, eyes on Hyunwoo as he continues his set of push ups on the hot blacktop. 

There’s only a small patch of sun-bleached grass on one side of the yard, but that’s where Block C congregates and Hyunwoo has learned that a fight really isn’t worth the extra effort.

Hyunwoo grunts. The blacktop is beginning to sear his palms and the sun is beating down on his back, but exercise keeps him sane.

“The other prisoners have either been transferred or disappeared without a trace. And yet, you’re still here,” Kihyun continues. 

Cell 514 is meant to hold ten prisoners, but Kihyun has somehow managed to keep the number low, even as the prison overflows with newcomers.

Hyunwoo looks up, squinting against the sun, and is surprised to see the usual hostility and challenge etching his face replaced by a kernel of curiosity and maybe even a glint of admiration.

“I’m still here,” he echoes as he finishes his set, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

Kihyun taps his fingers on his clothed knee, eyes narrowed in thought as they slide up Hyunwoo’s body. Assessing.

“Don’t you think it’s boring to watch the same guy run up and down the court every day?” Kihyun juts his chin in the direction of the man playing basketball across the yard—Zico. A well-known repeat prisoner, he entertains many of the inmates by narrating the game as he plays solo, talking about himself in the third person. He’s always the champion.

Hyunwoo knows that Zico is a gang leader on the outside—the BBC, a street gang that dabbles mostly in petty drug peddling in Seoul—they are in direct competition with Kihyun’s drug distribution network, although the gang is so small that it is probably considered an annoyance more than anything else.

Inside the prison, Zico rules over Block B—the smallest block in the prison, where non-violent offenders stay—and by extension, owns the basketball court.

“I want to watch a game and my guys—especially H.One—really want to play. Can you take care of that for me?” Kihyun asks in a honeyed voice, sweet enough to conceal the barbs buried underneath.

Hyunwoo knows he’s being tested. He is finally granted another chance to prove himself and hopefully gain favor.

He nods stiffly and approaches Zico, who continues to play basketball unchallenged.

“Must be boring to play against yourself every day,” Hyunwoo says when he’s close enough to the other man. “Let’s play 1 on 1.”

“This is my area,” Zico warns as he shoots again and the ball bounces off the bent metal rim. “Fuck off or I’ll fuck you up.”

“Big words for someone who rules over a block filled with grandpas,” Hyunwoo jibes, raising an eyebrow. He feels Kihyun’s gaze on him, boring into the back of his head.

Zico scoffs as he looks Hyunwoo up and down. “Wanna go up against me? Fine, let’s play. Can’t wait to show everyone how I beat your ass.”

They play hard, with the sun beating down on them. Sweat drips down Hyunwoo’s forehead into his eyes and he feels it soaking through his prison uniform. 

“Foul!” Hyunwoo yells. “That was a fucking foul.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Zico scowls and spits at his feet. “You just suck.”

Hyunwoo feels several curious eyes on him, sees Kihyun watching their exchange with amusement, so he steps up his game—and presses a finger to Zico’s chest.

“No. You’re a fucking cheater.”

Zico looks down at his finger then steps closer so that they’re nose to nose. “Better a cheater than a dog trying to please the first master he finds.” He juts his chin in Kihyun’s direction.

Hyunwoo doesn’t even think. He punches him, square in the jaw and steals the ball.

Zico stumbles back and curses, holding his jaw. “You broke my fucking jaw!”

“No. Just bruised, but Block A owns the courts now,” Hyunwoo counters, louder than necessary, making sure his voice carries. Then he crouches close to Zico and lowers his voice. “If I ever hear you say anything like that again about Kihyun, it really will be broken.”

He’s surprised by his own malice, how deeply he feels it. _This is an undercover operation_ , he reminds himself, but he’s shaking with adrenaline by the time he stands up again.

The two bodyguards come over and slap him on the back with wide smiles on their faces, but he walks right past them and stops in front of Kihyun.

“Want to play?” he asks as he extends the ball to him.

Kihyun’s eyes flick from the ball to Hyunwoo’s face and he breathes out a short laugh. “What?”

“The court is yours now. Want to play with me and the guys?” Hyunwoo points to H.One and Wonho behind him.

“I don’t do that,” Kihyun murmurs under his breath, but his eyes are still fixed on the ball and for the first time since he’s arrived in prison, Hyunwoo sees a spark of yearning in his gaze. “Okay, yeah,” he finally says as he stands and takes the ball. “Let’s play.”

The four of them play basketball nearly every day after that, and when Hyunwoo catches Kihyun looking at him throughout the game, he looks right back.

/

Autumn sunlight kisses Kihyun’s pink hair, making it glow almost ethereally as he lazes on the bleachers after the day’s basketball game finishes. The cooler weather feels refreshing, but it’s also a warning that Hyunwoo’s time in prison will be coming to an end soon.

Hyunwoo stretches his hamstrings on the blacktop, but his eyes automatically seek out Kihyun, following the gentle slope of his nose to the curve of his cheek to his pink bottom lip.

He stops stretching and stares, feeling like this is the first time he’s really _seeing_ Kihyun, not as a prison leader or mafia king, not as the subject of an undercover investigation, but as a man who is truly, breathtakingly beautiful.

Even as he reminds himself not to get attached, he feels his breath catch in his throat. He closes his eyes, trying to center himself. He’s seen far too many officers lose their way during a mission and ultimately lose their lives too.

“He’s out of your league, you know?” Wonho’s voice cuts through his thoughts and Hyunwoo finally tears his eyes away to continue stretching.

He grunts instead of arguing.

Wonho is the closest person to a friendly face in prison that Hyunwoo has been able to find.

“We’ve all tried,” he continues with a gentle smile, “but the boss stays focused on work.”

Kihyun does work all the time, between talking to his lawyer and his “business partners”, he seems to be in meetings all day. Remarkable for someone locked up in a cell.

“Do you know why he’s here?” Hyunwoo asks, comfortable enough now to push for small shreds of information.

Wonho hesitates, eyes flicking around, then leans in close. “He’s technically in for drug trafficking, but he’s really buying himself some time. One of our own was murdered during a routine run. Real messy,” he confides, voice low.

Ice stabs Hyunwoo in the gut and he knows immediately that Wonho is talking about Minhyuk.

“Murdered,” he repeats numbly, his mouth feeling like it’s filled with cotton.

“Yeah. The boss never talks about him. They were—friends. Well, he thought they were, but—” he shrugs and shakes his head, not continuing the thought. “Kihyun hates betrayal above everything.”

“Was he killed as a warning?”

Wonho looks at him sharply, the earlier friendliness gone. “I report to Kihyun every night. Don’t make me report you too.”

Hyunwoo can’t sleep that night. When he closes his eyes, all he sees is Minhyuk.

He remembers the last time he saw his friend. They met briefly at a street stall in the middle of a crowded market in Seoul. They didn’t look at each other, but Hyunwoo could tell Minhyuk was jumpy, nervous. He spoke quickly and in choppy sentences, like he was going to disappear any minute and needed to get every word out.

“The Yoos are hard to crack, but I’m close, hyung,” Minhyuk said. “There’s someone else. When we know who that is, we can close down the entire operation, but I think—” he paused and lowered his voice further, “I think there’s another Yoo member, hyung. An outlier.”

“How do you know, Min?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know.”

And then he did disappear into the crowd, only to show up a few weeks later dead, with the Yoo family emblem carved into his forehead.

“I’m so sorry, my friend,” Hyunwoo whispers into the darkness. He feels the words drag through the tightness in his throat. “I’ll find your killer and take down the Yoos for you.”

He should have pulled him out and shut down the operation when he had the chance.

Suddenly he hears a small noise—a whimper.

His eyes flit over the men and land on Kihyun twisted in the sheet covering his futon. There’s something like pain and worry cinching his brows together in his sleep, and even from his place across the room, he can see sweat plastering his pink hair to his forehead. 

Hyunwoo has an intense urge to soothe him, to smooth the wrinkles between his eyebrows—and for the first time since joining the police force, he’s terrified that he may lose himself in a mission.

He could die without seeing his parents again or Jooheon. He could die without ever getting married or falling in love. His mind is screaming at him to leave, to get out before he dives in so deep that he drowns.

He tries to maintain his focus by gaining distance. He volunteers for extra work hours and studies in the small prison library.

Then he runs in endless circles around the prison yard, searching for an escape that doesn’t exist. Hyunwoo feels Kihyun’s gaze on him as he runs and awareness spreads over his skin, hot and insistent.

He runs past the point of exhaustion, but his head is no clearer. The mess inside him is still there.

And when Kihyun calls out to him, he follows.

/

Hyunwoo used to dream in twisted nightmares with disjointed images of Minhyuk’s face haunting him, but now Kihyun visits him at night.

He wakes with a start, his heart beating rapidly in his chest, body hot and ready, craving another man’s touch.

The dream comes back to him in fragments: Kihyun forcing him to walk to the center of the blacktop and strip. Kihyun watching him as he works out naked, admiring his body, but also taunting him with a small smile playing on his lips. _You can’t touch yourself, baby. Only I can touch you._ Hyunwoo feels shame roll through his body, followed by a pang of longing. 

Even wide awake now he’s heavy with it. He sits up and shakes his head, trying to get rid of the dream, but it clings to him.

He hasn’t been touched by another man since before his last mission and even that left him aching for something more.

H.One is watching him with large eyes and a lazy smirk, head propped on one of his palms. “Good dream?”

Hyunwoo groans, feeling his cheeks heat.

“I can take care of that for you,” he offers as he stares pointedly at Hyunwoo’s crotch, then raises a haughty eyebrow to his hairline.

“It will go down on its own,” Hyunwoo mumbles as he folds his bed.

“The boss wants to see you alone today,” H.One informs him, his face not giving anything away. “It’s already arranged.”

Hyunwoo only nods, knowing better than to seem too interested.

He’s pulled aside by Wonho while they’re walking out to the yard and shoved into a small unused room, most likely an old work room or closet.

It smells dank and wet. Musty. Kihyun is already inside.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

Hyunwoo doesn’t know, but his blood pressure spikes, pounding in his ears when he notices the switchblade clutched in Kihyun’s hand.

“Kneel.”

Hyunwoo lowers to the ground slowly, watching as Kihyun approaches and stands in front of him, echoing the positions they were in the first day they met.

He flicks his gaze from Kihyun’s eyes to his crotch. Now he has an idea of why he’s there.

“I could force you to choke on my dick and no one would know,” Kihyun growls lowly, contrasting the playful glean in his eyes.

“You could, but you won’t,” Hyunwoo counters with a smirk. A thrill travels through him; they’re playing a game that only Kihyun seems to understand the rules to, but Hyunwoo is right on his heels.

Kihyun nods slowly and circles around him. “True. Not my style,” he concedes. 

He pulls Hyunwoo’s hair, wrenching his head back so that they’re looking directly into each other’s eyes and he presses the knife to Hyunwoo’s Adam’s apple. He swallows and hears it scrape against the sharp blade. “I want you on your knees begging me for my cock. And you would do that, wouldn’t you?”

Hyunwoo fights a shiver as they hold each other’s eyes. The earlier heat in his stomach spikes again, low and hot. Reckless.

Kihyun finally lets go of his hair and starts circling again. “I bet you’ve imagined it.”

Hyunwoo can’t deny it—he’s imagined Kihyun riding him, eyes squeezed closed in pleasure as he takes and takes, using Hyunwoo up and giving nothing in return. Sometimes Kihyun looks at Hyunwoo like he knows exactly what he wants. What he needs. And Hyunwoo hates himself for wanting Kihyun to touch him and ease some of the ache.

He swallows again, choosing to remain quiet, not trusting his voice to be steady.

Kihyun presses the knife to Hyunwoo’s lower lip. The metal feels cool against his skin and a rush of danger prickles up his spine. Being alone with Kihyun is thrilling. Invigorating. Hyunwoo presses his lips to the blade and runs his tongue along it in a careful kitten lick, holding Kihyun’s eyes as he does so, and doesn’t miss Kihyun’s quiet gasp.

“You’re not scared of me,” Kihyun breathes out and he takes another step forward, running a gentle finger along Hyunwoo’s cheek. His eyes are dark and endless, and Hyunwoo wants to discover all his sweet spots, hear all his secrets.

“Good.” Kihyun pats his cheek and puts away the knife, breaking the spell. “You’ve passed the test. You’re now one of my bodyguards, third in line after Wonho and H.One. You are dismissed.”

Hyunwoo doesn’t miss the flush on Kihyun’s cheeks when he turns to leave.

/

At least twice per week, Hyunwoo trains alongside Wonho and H.One, and now that he’s a bodyguard, he trails behind Kihyun through most of the day.

“I need you to meet with a woman named Dior. She’s listed as your sister,” Kihyun tells him in a low voice. “You need to slip this through the crack in the plexiglass.”

Hyunwoo looks down at the slip of paper, no wider than a piece of gum. All that’s written on it is an address in Seoul; it looks familiar but he can’t immediately place it.

The impending meeting gnaws away at him as he finishes his work duty folding communal prisoner laundry and as he is escorted to meet his “sister” during visitor hours.

“Oppa! Oppa, is that you?” a young woman calls out as she waves dramatically. She’s wearing a skin-tight red dress that hugs her curves and she plops gracefully into the chair, crossing her legs and sweeping a strand of long brown hair out of her eyes.

“Ah, yes. It’s good to see you again…sister,” he greets awkwardly. It’s not really meant to be funny, but Dior giggles anyway.

“Cute,” she coos as she taps her long red nails on the glass. 

She asks him about the food and about the guards as he manages to slip the paper through a minuscule crack in the glass. Luckily for them, the guard on duty is distracted by a baseball game playing on a small portable television and muttering curses as his team continues to lose.

Dior looks down at the paper then slips it into her bra. “What kind of flowers do you want to send?”

Hyunwoo stares at her and she rolls her eyes. “To honor our dear brother Minhyuk.”

Every muscle in Hyunwoo’s body freezes, but his mind is in hyperdrive. “What did you say?” he asks quietly.

Dior mouths, _play along_ , before repeating herself, “What kind of flowers do you want to send this time?”

Hyunwoo exhales slowly and searches his memory for instructions from Kihyun before he calls too much attention to himself. “Your choice, but remember: only the best for our brother.”

She giggles behind her hand then places it on the glass again. Hyunwoo watches as a tiny paper squeezes through the crack.

“It’s always a pleasure to see you, oppa,” she simpers as she blows him a kiss and is escorted out by a security guard.

Hyunwoo grabs the paper and hides it in the sleeve of his prison uniform, transferring it to Kihyun when he’s safely back in the cell. He struggles to hear Kihyun’s soft voice over all the questions in his head.

“Who’s Minhyuk?” Hyunwoo asks against his better judgment. He forces himself to look at Kihyun and not back down. He needs to know.

“Dior and her loud mouth,” he sighs as he studies Hyunwoo’s eyes. “Minhyuk used to work for me and he was—murdered. I send flowers to his cremation site every month.”

“Oh.” Hyunwoo releases a tense breath, trying to process this new information. This is the most Kihyun has ever confided in him. _Do you know who killed him? Did you kill him?_ The questions burn his tongue, but he swallows them down. 

“Why did Dior ask what kind of flowers to send?”

Kihyun looks at him with a sly smile on his lips. “I’m sending a message.”

/

Hyunwoo wakes with a jolt and he listens intently, trying to discern what could have woken him in the dead of night. Wonho—who is supposed to be awake and on guard—is slumped over, snoring softly in the metal chair in the corner, in a position that will surely make him ache the next day. 

He hears it again—a slight gurgling sound, and this time he sits up slowly, trying to be discreet, not call attention to himself.

The room is dark and it takes him a moment for his eyes to adjust. He scans the sleeping bodies and Hyunwoo is on his feet in an instant, instincts taking over. He tackles the figure mere moments before the blade in his hand connects with Kihyun’s throat. 

Hyunwoo rips away the shank—homemade, probably from a broken piece of metal or a mirror—from Jaesun’s hand and presses it to his throat, directly over the pulse point. He can see the artery jumping and pulsing beneath the skin. 

Jaesun is breathing heavily, eyes feverish. His body thrashes under Hyunwoo’s weight, but he’s smiling, a sick flash of rotten yellow teeth.

H.One is interrogating the older man while Wonho jumps up and takes over for Hyunwoo, who immediately checks over Kihyun. He touches Kihyun’s face, his neck, checks his pulse. “Are you hurt?” he asks as he listens to his heartbeat.

Kihyun is pallid, his frame shaking with adrenaline and probably fear—something Hyunwoo never thought he would ever see. Dark bruises—finger marks—are beginning to show on his neck. Hyunwoo gently touches the bruises.

“Don’t touch the boss,” H.One chastises, eyes narrowed. 

Hyunwoo jerks his hands back. _How stupid_ , he thinks. He knows better than to touch him without invitation.

But Kihyun continues to look at him with wide eyes and slowly reaches out for his hand, then deliberately puts his palm back into place on his skin, fingers caressing his neck, gentle as a lover’s touch.

The room is tense and silent, all eyes on them. Even Jaesun is staring dumbly at their exchange.

Kihyun rises up from the bed and saunters over to Jaesun, pulling his head back harshly by the hair at his nape.

“Was I not taking care of you well, sweetheart?” he coos before his face darkens and he kicks the man harshly in the side, knocking the wind out of him.

Jaesun curls in on himself, begging for mercy.

“How pathetic,” Kihyun sneers. “Why should I give you anything when you tried to kill me, hmmm?”

Then the man’s face twists and he spits blood on the floor, a little of it splattering onto Kihyun’s sock. 

“You’re no fun,” Kihyun pouts and turns away dismissively. “Kill him.”

“Kiyoung sent me,” the man bites out almost gleefully, blood dribbling from his lips. “The war is on.”

Shock pins Hyunwoo in place and he watches as Kihyun stops in his tracks, a ripple of laughter escaping him, shaking his shoulders, cracking him open until his head is thrown back with the force of his hysterics. 

“You’ve been a good messenger,” Kihyun finally says as he pats Jaesun on the head, “but I don’t think hyung needs you anymore.” 

Hyunwoo barely registers Wonho and H.One dragging the man away to the tiny toilet; he’s still too stunned to move.

_Yoo Kiyoung_ , he repeats to himself. _Kihyun’s older brother and co-heir to the Yoo empire._

A man that—as far as the police force knows—has been dead for nearly two years.

/

“Shownu.”

Hyunwoo’s head jerks up in surprise. This is the first time Kihyun has called him by name.

Kihyun is sitting on the blacktop smoking a cigarette well after hours. Somehow there isn’t another soul in sight.

Hyunwoo forgets sometimes how powerful Kihyun really is, but he doesn’t ask questions as he takes a long drag from the offered cigarette. He hasn’t smoked in years and the smoke burns hot and ashy in his mouth.

“My father always said to never trust someone who kneels right away—and he was right.” Kihyun looks into Hyunwoo’s eyes. “You saved my life.”

Hyunwoo is quiet as he watches the haze lift from Kihyun’s dark eyes—always clouded with power and cynicism to protect himself—momentarily leaving them a deep soulful brown. 

“I don’t trust you fully yet, but I feel like I could,” Kihyun continues as he places a palm on Hyunwoo’s chest.

The gentle touch sends Hyunwoo’s heart soaring and just for that moment, as Hyunwoo looks into Kihyun’s fathomless eyes, he feels something warm ignite deep within his chest—and it isn’t love, not even close, but it could become love—and that should be terrifying.

Hyunwoo isn’t terrified as he kisses Kihyun’s palm tenderly, his lips running over the small white scars found there; he feels dizzy and utterly intoxicated as he kneels willingly before him.

Kihyun sucks in a sharp breath and smiles almost shyly, saying quietly, “One day I’m going to take over the whole goddamned city and I want you by my side as I do it.”

Long after he’s dismissed and late into the evening, Hyunwoo lies awake on his futon waiting for sleep to come.

“I’m in,” he whispers, but only silence answers him.

/

Two weeks later, heavy metal gates close and lock behind the two men as they leave the prisondressed in their street clothes, with Wonho and H.One on either side of them.

“There’s going to be a war,” Kihyun murmurs as they walk to the waiting car.

Hyunwoo watches as Kihyun slides into the back of the sleek black Mercedes and indicates for him to sit beside him as his near-equal, his confidante and right-hand man.

Hyunwoo pauses, staring at his distorted reflection in the glossy black paint, then looks at the trees dotting the tiny parking lot. They’re bare of leaves now and the air smells damp and earthy with impending winter snow. 

As he scans the parking lot, he almost expects to see Jooheon waiting for him, but the lot is empty—he is left truly alone.

Kihyun pops his head out the open door and smiles, white and toothy, propping his designer sunglasses atop his messy faded pink hair. He looks almost carefree dressed in jeans and a leather jacket. “Are you ready, Shownu?”

Hyunwoo feels his stomach flip and he ignores the warning sirens wailing in the back of his head as he slips on his sunglasses and turns to look at Kihyun, fighting a fond smile.

“Ready, boss.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! I wasn't sure if I was going to wind up posting the story or keep it to myself because I'm still a bit shy about posting...I left the end open to give myself the option to continue the story in installments if there is any interest! 
> 
> So...what did you think? :)


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